Lost Jedi: The Aftermath of Tenstarri
by Tenstarri
Summary: Four years after she was presumed dead, a Jedi Padawan is discoved to be hiding right under the Council’s noses. Can she be trusted? Why did she go into hiding? What else might she be keeping secret? Takes place in the Old Republic. Please R&R!
1. Prologue

**Lost Jedi:  
The Aftermath of Tenstarri**

**Disclamer:** I do not own Star Wars. If I did, I would not be writing this fanfiction. Alas. I did, however, create Tason and Viea. Master Billaba shares her name is a real Star Wars character, but they are not the same person. Also, I owe a lot to my editor/friend, Brittany, and to my friend, Dan, for giving me a lot of ideas. Thank you, enjoy.

_Prologue_

The sky above Coruscant was unusually dark and disheartening. Very few speeders were flying in between the silvery glass buildings, and those that were seemed to be moving sluggishly, almost sadly.

Past the mile-high buildings, and even past the majestic Jedi Temple, a great abundance of light radiated. It was the soft glow of two large fires, but they were not warm and welcoming. The fires emitted a light of sorrow and mourning. They were a pair of funeral pyres.

The larger of the two pyres seemed to glow brighter. There were an assortment of items gathered at its base, an old lightsaber and Jedi robes among them. The smaller pyre was unnaturally dark and obviously weaker. Items were gathered at the base of it too, although noticeably fewer than the larger had. Near the top of the pile was a necklace, a large blue gem shaped like a raindrop, strung on a cord of diamonds. The fires reflected in these crystals, making them sparkle brilliantly.

As with the two pyres, there were also two populations honoring them. Mostly surrounding the larger pyre was a small group. This group was made up entirely of Jedi. Their robes were pure black, rather than brown, and all of them had their heads bowed respectfully. They seemed at peace.

The same could not be said for the second, much larger group. Gathered around the smaller pyre was a mass of slightly raggedly-dressed individuals, who bore a resemblance to refugees. They were tearful, grieving, and all of them were terribly upset. All of them, that is, except for one.

A young girl, closest to the small pyre, was silent and still. She could not have been older than eleven years. The girl was not dressed as the rest of her group. In fact, her clothing was a complete difference from the others. She wore a black mourning gown which glittered with dark red rubies. She looked, in a sense, regal.

Silent tears trickled down Viea Ninde's face, her soft hazels eyes closed lightly. She did not notice when a hand touched her shoulder. The hand's grip tightened slightly and Viea turned her head to gaze at its owner out of the corner of her eye.

"Milady," Jedi Master Billaba spoke quietly. She seemed wore and tired. "We've just returned from Corellia." She paused, the ornamental gold on the bridge of her nose gleaming in the firelight. Finally, she took her hand off Viea's shoulder and placed it at her side respectfully.

"Her body wasn't found," Master Billaba said. "The search was called off." Viea's jaw dropped. Mixed emotions made her head swim.

"If her body wasn't found, she must still be alive," she insisted, her voice slightly exasperated. "She could have been kidnapped!"

"No one kidnaps a Jedi, Viea. If her master was killed, she would have been killed as well," Master Billaba explained. "We believe her body was destroyed."

"No! She's still alive, I know she is," Viea said, beginning to sob slightly. "Has the Council even tried to feel for her?"

"Indeed they have, milady," Master Billaba replied, her voice still soft. She kneeled down next to the young princess. "Your sister is gone. I'm terribly sorry." She gripped Viea's shoulder again before standing. As she turned to leave, she spoke again.

"There was nothing we could do."

From miles away on a landing dock, Tason Ninde gazed down at her own funeral. She was dressed plainly, in a grey tunic and pants, and her fiery brown and auburn hair was pulled back. In fact, the only thing odd about her appearance was the cylinder-shaped holster attached to a strap around her right thigh.

Even so, no one aboard the transport ship would ever guess that the tall, lanky girl was anything extraordinary. No one would ever realize that she was a princess, a survivor from a dead planet, and a Jedi Padawan learner.

"We're boarding now, miss," one of the ship's attendants called out over the winds. Tason gave on last look at the fires, and then closed her clear blue eyes. She turned away and walked up the platform. She took a seat, and watched Coruscant fade away as the ship disappeared into the night.


	2. Chapter One

**Lost Jedi:  
The Aftermath of Tenstarri**

**Disclamer:** I do not own Star Wars. If I did, I would have already asked Hayden Christensen to marry me. I still own Tason, and now I own Jace too. _The Rusty Speeder_ is my own creation. Thanks to Dan for inspiration and thanks even more to Brittany for editing.

**Author's Note:** I probably should have mentioned this in the prologue. Lost Jedi: The Aftermath of Tenstarri (or "LJ TAoT") takes place in the Old Republic, about 200 years before Star Wars: Episode I.

_Chapter One  
__In The Rusty Speeder_

It was a bright afternoon in Coruscant, and with the sun high in the sky now, the two Jedi had to shield their eyes as they exited the Jedi Temple. The pair boarded a taxi speeder and rode into the high-rises. Before they went too far up into the sky, one Jedi asked to be let off.

He was younger than his colleague, as he had just turned nineteen a month earlier. He had a tall and muscular build. His hair was very dark brown, possibly black, with dark eyes to match. In fact, if it weren't for a wise, if somewhat aging, look in his eyes, he would have been perfectly handsome.

His name was Jace Latimer, and he was no longer a Jedi Padawan learner. The look of stress melted off his face as the taxi stopped on the lower-level streets of Coruscant.

"Where exactly do you plan to go, Jace?" his Master asked. Jace grinned widely.

"To a club, probably," he replied coolly. His Master gave him a quizzical stare. "I've just finished the Jedi trails, sir. I need a drink." His Master laughed as Jace closed the speeder's door and walked away along the streets.

He passed over many of the newer, more questionable clubs, before entering an old bar called "The Rusty Speeder". It was semi-well lit, and glowed an eerie and somewhat hazy orange. He walked farther into the bar, glancing the tables for a place to sit.

Then it hit him. It felt as though a wave of restless energy had struck him head on. Jace stumbled backward a bit, but no one seemed to notice. He shook his head and glanced nervously around. If he wasn't mistaken, what he has just felt was a mutilated form of the Force.

Intrigued, Jace began walking through the crowd of people. His eyes snapped to anyone wearing brown in hope that he would see Jedi robes. He saw no one. Jace took one last nervous glance around, and sat down and a small table in the midst of the crowd.

After taking a moment to calm himself, Jace began looking for a waitress. He noticed a trio of them a few yards away, pointing and giggling at him. They were not bothering to keep their voices down and he distinctly heard the words "handsome Jedi". Jace rolled his eyes impatiently. When they realized he was watching them, one of the girls came forward.

"How can I help you?" she asked, stifling more giggles and looking slightly flustered. Jace sighed, irritated.

"Something light," he replied airily. The waitress nodded, dashed back to her friends, giggled, and then disappeared behind the bar-side patrons.

Jace leaned back in his chair. He looked around the bar and at its customers. Most of them were hopelessly drunk or taking advantage of the hopelessly drunk. This was troubling, indeed, but not a Jedi matter. Jace continued scanning the chaos until his eyes fell on someone in particular, just a few yards away.

She was standing unusually still in comparison to the others around her, and that is what made the young woman stand out. She was tall and slim, with long, but graceful, arms and legs. Her outfit matched those of the other waitresses, comprised of an abdomen exposing and sleeveless top paired with sleek leather pants, all in black. The clothing did not seem to suit her, but she looked rebelliously comfortable in them.

Her hair was mostly light brown, with strange auburn highlights at the ends. Her skin was fair, but looked darkened and slightly worn. Jace was about to take in the color of the girl's eyes when he realized she was watching him.

He felt the wave of energy hit him again, stronger than before. He noticed the girl flinch and knew she had felt something as well. He glanced down for half a second, grabbed and ignited his lightsaber, only to look up and find another one at his throat.

Jace's blade was probably an inch from the girl's face, and lit it up in a brilliant green light. It hummed dangerously, but the girl did not appear frightened. In fact, to Jace, her amethyst lightsaber was the frightening one. It was silent, as her arched wrist was entirely still.

Now, unfortunately, Jace had a good look at the color of the girl's eyes. They were a clear blue, and would have been uniquely beautiful, had they not been creating such an icy glare. As she and Jace stared ferociously at each other, the latter began to rapidly think of what to do. The former seemed unnaturally calm.

"Lower your weapon," the girl snarled, breaking the silence that had now fallen over the bar. Jace narrowed his eyes.

"I don't think you're in any position to be telling me what to do," he replied. He could have then sworn he saw a flicker of a grin pass over the girl's face.

"I don't think_ you're_ in any position to be _questioning_ what I'm telling you to do," she said confidently, almost boldly. Jace hesitated. Then he lowered his lightsaber and extinguished it. He could easily ignite it again if she made a move. It took the girl a few moments before she lowered her weapon, and even longer to extinguished it. Both of them watched each other warily as they put the lightsabers back. In Jace's case, this was into his belt, and in the girl's case, into a strange holster on her thigh.

A low, cautious hum began to refill the bar. The waitress who had been serving Jace edged her way forward towards him, eyeing the other girl nervously. She set down Jace's drink quickly, with looking at him, and turned to the girl.

"What's going on here?" she asked, trying to muster as much authority into her voice as she could. Then she grinned at Jace. "Old girlfriend?" The other girl did not look pleased, and Jace shot her a frustrated glare. The blue-eyed girl never took her eyes off Jace.

"I'm going," she replied softly, but sternly.

"If you walk out now, you'll be fired," the waitress said. "You realize that, don't you?" The other girl nodded and gave Jace one final, long stare. Then she brushed past his shoulder and disappeared out of the bar. Jace watched her leave, and then absentmindedly placed a few credits on the table to pay for the drink. He left it untouched, and made toward the exit.

It was cooler now, and dark shadows made the lower streets of Coruscant appear to already be in twilight. Most of the inhabitants had cleared off, leaving only the fortuneless riffraff to wander about. This made it only too easy for Jace to spot the girl walking quickly down the street. After jogging to catch up, Jace put a hand on the girl's arm.

Again, she pulled out her lightsaber and aimed it at Jace. This time, however, she did not ignite it. She just pointed it at him, dangerously close and threatening.

"Stay away from me," she snapped. "I want to pretend what happened back there never took place." She tore her arm out of his grasp, put the lightsaber away, and continued walking. Jace did not back down and followed her a few more feet.

"Care to tell me why you have a lightsaber?" he demanded, rather than asked. She shot him a glare that obviously meant "no". Jace still followed "Then tell me your name, at least."

"I do not want to associate with you," She hesitated, and then sneeringly added, "_Master Jedi_." They had reached an external elevator for an apartment building. Jace moved in front of the door before the girl could enter. She wasn't pleased.

"Tell me your name," Jace said, "and I'm gone." The girl glowered at him, an icy, violent look in her eyes. Her fingers hovered over the holster on her right leg, but she though better of it. She sighed.

"My name," she said slowly, "is Tason." She shoved Jace out of the way and boarded the elevator. She pressed a button and the door quickly closed. She sneered at Jace through the green-tinted glass and rose up the side of the building.

Jace watched the elevator, counting the number of floors before it stopped and Tason exited, which was on the twenty-forth floor. He made a mental note, and headed toward the edge of the street. There, he waved down a taxi speeder and headed back to the Jedi Temple.


	3. Chapter Two

**Lost Jedi:  
The Aftermath of Tenstarri**

**Disclamer:** I do not own Star Wars. If I did, I would have my own fanfiction website. I still own Tason, Jace, and now Boro Soxan. Madam Nu shares her name is a real Star Wars character, but they are not the same person. I owe too much to my editor, Brittany, and to my friend, Dan, for giving me a lot of ideas. Thank you, and enjoy.

_Chapter Two  
__A Night in the Archives_

Jace was standing patiently in the Jedi Archives. It was unnervingly silent, as everyone else had left for the night. Most of the lights were off, leaving the room to be filled with the blue glow of the holobooks.

As the emptiness started to bore him, Jace began to pace along the edge of the aisles, gazing lazily at the many bronze busts of influential Jedi. As he moved along, one of the busts made him pause and look at it properly. The name written below the bust was Ardane Marr.

It was the face and shoulders of a middle-aged human Jedi. He looked very ordinary, except for a large scar running the length of his face, from his left cheekbone to the right side of his jaw. It appeared to be a burn, but was unnaturally straight and clean.

"That scar was caused by a Sith's lightsaber," a voice behind Jace said. Jace turned to find Madame Lysena Nu, the Jedi Archivist, heading his way.

She was about thirty years older than Jace, and was very a fiery and intolerant. Her hair was black and beginning to grey, which made her blue-grey eyes stand out. At the moment, her eyes seemed to glow like the holobooks around her. She stopped next to Jace, and looked at the bust.

"Marr was an extraordinary fighter," she continued. "He sustained that wound just before killing one of the last of the Sith. He could have easily had the skin healed, but instead chose to let it scar. He wanted to show even he was not a perfect fighter."

She finished, and then looked over at Jace. The young man was gazing at her smugly.

"Part of me is honestly wondering if you have every bit of information in here memorized," he commented. Madame Nu smiled.

"Do you realize what time it is, Master Latimer?" she asked him. Jace nodded.

"Much too late," he replied, "but this is important."

"It had better be," Madame Nu said threateningly. "I assume you want to research something?"

"Yes," Jace answered, "a person." He followed her over to a viewing screen. She motioned for him to sit and moved the keyboard toward herself.

"Name?" she asked, finger poised to type.

"Tason," Jace answered awkwardly. Madame Nu glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes.

"Last name?" she pressed. Jace shrugged.

"I don't know it," he admitted. Madame Nu gave him a reproachful glare.

"This is a male, I presume?" she said.

"Actually, Tason is a girl's name," Jace corrected. Madame Nu looked disgusted.

"What a repulsive name for a girl," she commented. Then she just sighed and continued. "Age?"

"Sixteen or seventeen."

"Is she a Jedi?"

"I believe so."

"What species?"

"Human."

"Well, at least I can get one straight answer out of you," Madame Nu audibly murmured. The screen began to flicker through names and images as it searched. "You realize you hardly gave me enough information to find anything specific, don't you?"

Just as she finished her sentence, however, the search ended. Two results were displayed. Madame Nu looked both awestruck and impressed.

"I will leave you to your work," she said. Jace thanked her and watched her disappear behind a shelf. Then he turned back to the viewing screen. Next to both results was the name Tason Ninde. One of the results was a Jedi profile. The second result Jace had to read three times before it set in. It was an obituary.

Although disturbed, Jace ignored the second result and selected the profile. Staring back at him were the same clear blue eyes he had first seen slightly more than an hour ago. The eyes were the only part of Tason that had remained exactly the same since the picture had been recorded.

The young girl on the screen had to have been younger than fourteen. Her soft brown hair was cut just above her shoulders, with auburn ends. One piece of hair was braided and pulled back, the sign of a Padawan. She wore rough tawny robes, and a silver lightsaber handle was seen on her belt.

Jace stared at the strangely familiar picture with dismay. This was indeed the young woman he has seen earlier. Entranced, it took Jace a long while before he pried his eyes from the picture and skimmed over the profile. Most of it was typical of any Jedi profile, until he reached the last paragraph.

"_Tason Ninde was killed at age fourteen. It is believed that she and her Master, Boro Soxan, were ambushed and attacked while on a training mission to Iteria, a frigid, but livable, planet in Hoth System. While Master Soxan's body was found, Ninde's was not. A search party was called off four weeks after her disappearance, as no evidence to proving she had survived was found. It is assumed she had been killed and her body destroyed. The cause of both deaths, and the killer, is unknown."_

Jace's body was numb by the time he finished reading the paragraph. His head was swimming. After pausing for a long moment, Jace took a glance at the obituary. Tason's funeral was held four years ago, in Coruscant.

But she wasn't dead. Shakily, Jace stood and moved away from the viewing screen. He headed out of the Archives and out of the Jedi Temple. As he made his way home, only one thought was in his mind: He was the only Jedi, probably the only person, who new Tason Ninde was still alive.


	4. Chapter Three

**Lost Jedi:  
The Aftermath of Tenstarri**

**Disclamer:** I do not own Star Wars, and the very idea makes me cry. I do own Tason and Jace, though, so that makes it a little better. A continuing thanks goes out to Brittany for editing (although I don't think she ever got the chance to edit this one, I did it on my own, so forgive me for any errors) and to Dan for being constant inspiration.

_Chapter Three_

_The Unwelcome Visitor_

Tason sat cross-legged on the cold floor of her apartment. Her outfit for the club was replaced with oversized grey pants and a pale yellow shirt. Her sleeves were pulled up, and she was doing the best thing to take her mind off of anything: tinkering.

In front of her was a jagged mass of silvery metal. Bolts and wires lay scattered around the area. A small, but important looking box sat on the stout table next to her.

Tason laid down her tool and sighed. Her progress on the contraption was moving slower than she had expected. After staring at the metal heap for a long while, she started to put away her tools. She was about put the metal apparatus away, when a noise she rarely heard rang through the room.

It was the entrance buzzer, or as her neighbors sometimes called it, the doorbell.

Tason hesitated, and stared at her door. The buzzer sounded again. Her blank stare turned into a scowl.

"Hold your eopies," she growled. "I'm coming, I'm coming."

Tason reached the door, and opened it a few inches. She glanced through the space. A pair of deep brown eyes stared back at her.

"Hello," Jace said cheerfully. Tason slammed the door shut.

"Tason! Please open the door," Jace shouted, his voice muffled. The girl ignored him, and began sliding her jumbled mass of metal across the floor. It clattered noisily, droning out Jace's demands. However, through the noise, she heard one sentence clearly: "I know who you are."

Tason stopped pulling the contraption and listened. Jace was silent, so she walked over to the door. She didn't open it, but just leaned against it.

"What do you mean 'I know who you are'?" she asked warily.

"I know your name is Tason Ninde," he began. On the other side of the door, Tason closed her eyes and braced herself. Jace continued.

"I know your seventeen years old. I know everyone thinks you're dead. I know you are familiar with a certain Boro Soxan who was killed four years ago. And I know you are a Jedi."

Tason wrenched the door open. Jace, startled, looked down at her. A piece of hair, exactly where her Padawan braid had been, fell onto her face. Her eyes, to either side, were icy.

"Not anymore," Tason snarled slowly. She stared viciously at the Jedi for a long time. Then, much to his surprise, she stepped back and motioned for him to come inside. Jace pulled his robes closer together and stepped lightly over the threshold.

"Have a seat," Tason said, although the invitation was not at all welcome-sounding. Jace shook his head.

"I'll only intrude a while longer," he insisted politely. Tason stepped into her living area, muttering something that sounded liked "you bet you will" under her breath. She sat down on her sofa roughly, and then stared at him intently.

"Well?" she asked after a few moments. "What do you want?"

"I want to know your story," Jace replied simply. To his displeasure, Tason gave a loud and hearty laugh.

"You're going to have to work a little bit harder for that one," she said, grinning. Jace stared at her indifferently, and then shook his head slowly. At the end of one sway, his eyes caught sight of the jagged metal Tason had dragged to the other side of the table.

"What's that?" he asked with strange interest. Tason moved in his line of sight and nudged the silver mechanism under the table with her toe.

"None of your business," she snarled sharply. She scowled at him for a long moment, and gave a sort of snort and nodded towards the door. "I think you're interrogation is over..." Her voice faded out. She tilted her head and gave Jace the strange stare she had given him numerous times already in their short acquaintanceship.

"Latimer," the Jedi answered. "Jace Latimer. And I _don't_ think I'm through here." Tason smirked. Unbeknownst to Jace, she cautiously reached out, feeling for his thoughts. However, he was staying as clear headed and closed off as she was. She figured he knew and pulled back.

"Then do tell me what you feel you need to accomplish," she said, her tone becoming more agitated, forged and proper by the second, "and I will try my hardest to help you." She gave a fake smile and watched for a sign of frustration from the man. He remained emotionless as he replied, and Tason was disappointed.

"I need to know where you've been, how you've been hiding," He hesitated, then completed his thought, "and if I can trust you."

"You obviously feel you can trust me or you wouldn't have come here," Tason retaliated.

"I came here because everyone in the world, except you and me thinks, that you are dead, Tason!" Jace said loudly. "I came here because you are a Jedi, and you belong back with the Jedi Order."

"Don't you _dare_ tell me where I belong," Tason barked, her eyes wild and icy. She stepped up to Jace, the top of her head only coming to his chin. She looked up dangerously into his eyes. The pair stared at each other, one tolerant but perturbed and the other plainly infuriated.

"You've overstayed your welcome," Tason finally snarled softly. Jace nodded.

"I will be going to the Council," he informed her, "and explain the situation to them." He made his way towards the door.

"Fine! Go tell the Council!" Tason threatened. "I've hidden under their noses long enough to know that there's entirely nothing they can do!" Jace gave her one final glance, the exited the apartment.

Tason slumped onto her sofa, feeling the rage slowly trickle away from her. She put her head in her hands and rubbed her eyes miserably. She knew that was far from the last time she would see that Jedi.

Even though it was just edging into the afternoon, Tason felt a horrible weariness waft over her. It was beginning to sink in how comfortably she had spoken about the order and the past she had sworn to forget. How there had been something in Jace's final glace that made her stomach writhe. How she knew that her life, her real life, had come back to her head on, and she just wasn't prepared for it.


End file.
